


One Day It Will Please Us to Remember Even This

by Eastmava



Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastmava/pseuds/Eastmava
Summary: A brief follow-up to the brilliant "This Night at the Edge of the World", written with the wonderful author's permission.
"And oh, how he treasures those hours they’ve spent pressed together in bed, Matt’s hands in his hair, guiding him, teaching him, working him into a frenzy with just deep, filthy kisses, all while whispering ‘shh, baby, slowly, gently baby, we’ve got time, don’t rush’ while Techie squirms against him, helpless but to give himself over to the cresting waves of pleasure just from being so close to Matt."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This Night at the Edge of the World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370089) by [nookienostradamus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nookienostradamus/pseuds/nookienostradamus). 



> As noted in the summary, this is a follow up to "This Night at the Edge of the World" by the wonderful and talented nookienostradamus, who was kind enough to grant me permission to play in her wonderful world. This won't make much sense unless you read that first, and if you haven't read that yet you should absolutely go do so right now.
> 
> Have you ever gone to an art museum and seen people, usually art students, trying to copy the works of the masters? That's exactly what this is. Nookienostradamus is clearly van Gogh, and I'm an intro to drawing student trying to copy 'Vase with Twelve Sunflowers'.
> 
> This is completely unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. If you see any, please point them out!

Matt is the first thing he sees as he blinks the sun from his eyes.

Of course he sees Matt- tall and broad, with his hair golden in the afternoon sun- but a romantic part of him, a part he didn’t even know was there before Matt, says Matt will always be the first thing he sees.

That’s why he doesn’t see her at first. Techie recognizes her, the girl, the pretty girl who is laughing at something Matt has said while her hand flits delicately to his arm. She just sprinted from the same class he did, and she’s talking to Matt, tossing her long hair over her shoulder as she tries to keep his attention.

When Matt spots him he smiles, and the pretty girl stand up straighter but then slumps in defeat when she realizes the smile isn’t for her. Techie almost feels sorry for her- he knows how intoxicating the weight of Matt’s regard is, doesn’t understand how the rest of the world doesn’t seem to feel the same- but mostly he wants her to go away, doesn’t want to share Matt’s attention.

But Matt reaches out a hand toward Techie, even though there’s a tall flight of stairs and stretch of slowly browning grass between them. Techie rushes down the stairs, bag bouncing against his side, and nearly sprints to the tree Matt’s standing under because if Matt reaches out he’s always going to reach right back. He’s forever hated his long arms, thinks they make him clumsy and graceless, gangly, except now he’s grateful for them since it means he can snag Matt’s big hand in his that much sooner; the idea of waiting any longer, even seconds, mere milliseconds, of having to cover any more space, inches, centimeters, millimeters, before contact seems unbearable.

“Hullo,” Matt greets, a grin pulling creases into the spot at the top of his nose, laughter right below the surface of the word at Techie’s eagerness.

“Hi yourself,” he grins back, and doesn’t scold himself for the ping of satisfaction he feels as the pretty girl fades away. “Where are you parked?”

“Home. I walked. It’s a nice day.” He reaches up and brushes a thumb over the freckles that smatter across Techie’s pale cheeks. “We can catch a bus back though, if you want.”

“That’s okay. Let’s walk.” He would endure a lot worse than a pink nose and a few more freckles for the pleasure of warm autumn sun on his face and the weight of Matt’s hand curled in his.

Besides, Matt will probably brush kisses against each new freckle.

 

Their attempts at cooking have definitely gotten better. Their first month together they burned so much food they conceded defeat and took the batteries out of the smoke alarm. The closest pizza joint had their order memorized by their third week.

The lasagna Matt puts on his plate is warm and ooey-gooey with melted cheese, and only one little corner piece is blackened. He’s sopping up the last of the sauce on his plate, Peaches darting back and forth between the two of them, begging as though her licked clean food dish wasn’t filled before they sat down to eat, when Matt’s phone dings with a text.

“It’s Jessy,” he announces, and starts smiling as he reads. “She went to the doctor today. Her due date is April 21st.”

“Oh!” Techie smiles, picturing a tiny, pink, squirmy baby with Jessy’s dark hair. “Aren’t spring babies supposed to be the happiest?”

“With how much I’m going to spoil that kid they should be happy no matter when they’re born.”

Techie puts his bread down, frowns when he thinks of Matt holding a little baby, cradling it with his giant, gentle hands; thinks of the pretty girl from earlier. He ducks his head, intentionally covering his face with his hair, knowing it’s avoidance, but unable to bring himself to look at Matt, because for once Matt wouldn’t be a source of strength. “Do you want kids?”

“Dunno,” Matt says around a mouthful of food, swallows. “Maybe,” and then he sees whatever expression is twisting Techie’s face. “Why do you ask? Techie? What’s wrong?”

“I just,” he shrugs, tries to swallow the lump in his throat down, ignore the twisting of his stomach around the food he just ate, fights to keep the tears filling his vision from spilling. “I wonder if you’re going to decide you want a wife and kids.” He doesn’t say someone pretty, someone whose eyes don’t always hurt. Someone who wouldn’t need Matt to teach them how to kiss, how to touch (and oh, how he treasures those hours they’ve spent pressed together in bed, Matt’s hands in his hair, guiding him, teaching him, working him into a frenzy with just deep, filthy kisses, all while whispering ‘shh, baby, slowly, gently baby, we’ve got time, don’t rush’ while Techie squirms against him, helpless but to give himself over to the cresting waves of pleasure just from being so close to Matt).

Matt’s chair scrapes loudly in the silence which follows as he stands, moves to stand right beside him. Techie doesn’t look up, even as Matt pulls his hair out of his face. “Techie, hey.”

He starts to speak, stops, pauses to consider what he wants to say. The words seem stuck to his palate, a bad taste which lingers and won’t leave, until suddenly they’re tripping off his tongue in a rush. “You like girls,’ he chokes. “You like girls and one day I won’t be enough and you’ll miss them and I’ll be alone again. Like before. But this’ll be worse, because now I know what it’s like not to be lonely.” Don’t cry, he tells himself as he sniffles back a sob. Matt’s seen him cry before, held him close and soothed him, wrapped Techie’s hands in his so they settled, so he didn’t rub his already raw eyes worse, but he can’t now, not when he’s just reminded Matt that there are better choices.

“Techie.” Matt pulls him close, forehead resting on the ridges of Matt’s chiseled stomach, hand stroking his hair. Techie has seen Matt’s knuckles torn and bloodied, has witnessed the damage his giant hands can cause, the damage they take in return, but there’s no anger, nothing but gentleness in the butterfly soft touches of Matt’s fingers in his head. “I’m not good at this, but I thought you knew.” 

He curls a fist in Matt’s shirt, muffles the question of “knew what?” into Matt’s belly.

Matt untwists his hand, takes it in his own and crouches down, leans close enough his dark stubble rasps against Techie’s cheek and puts his mouth up to Techie’s ear to share a secret.

“That I love you.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, and now the tears do come, just a few, just enough, because his brave, brave, beautiful Matt, who can knock a man to the ground with his uppercut but is only slowly beginning to learn the strength of his words. Matt keeps him held close, sways them side to side, hums, scatters kisses around the delicate curve of Techie’s ear, pushes ginger hair aside with his generous nose while Techie clings tight to him; to the idea that maybe finally, finally he has something he isn’t going to have to give up.

It’s Peaches who breaks the moment. She informs them they’ve ignored her too long with a sharp yip. Matt leans back but doesn’t move to stand. “I don’t need anyone else. Don’t want anyone else.” He softly raps his fist against Techie’s temple. “Got it?”

“Yeah. You know I-”

“I know.” Matt grins like that’s enough, like he’s already gotten a better gift than he was expecting, and that’s unacceptable because Matt, his strong, wonderful Mattie, deserves everything he can give.

The words, when he goes to find them, stick heavy in his throat, rusted with disuse, like a lock too long unturned, but even though they’re hard to say he wants, oh so white-hot desperately, to say them.

“I love you too.” He doesn’t see Matt’s smile, but he tastes it, champagne bubbly sweet, in their kiss.

 

They put away leftovers, walk Peaches, then skip their typical evening pursuits to lay in bed together. Matt slides close, moves over him, his weight pressing Techie into the soft embrace of the mattress. He slides his hands over the corded muscles in Matt’s arms, catches his fingers on the hard curve of shoulders and pulls Matt down, snags Matt mouth in a kiss. 

Matt seems happy to indulge him, works Techie’s mouth open as they share heated breath. Techie may be better, doesn’t need Matt’s guidance like he once did, but Matt’s hands still tangle in his hair, coax him this way and that, tilts his head back so Matt can suck a claiming mark on his neck, a sharp fission of pleasure surging through him at the nip of Matt’s teeth to the column of his throat. 

His cock stirs, grows heavy in the pants Matt had teased him about, that he started wearing when the weather turned chilly, presses achingly good against Matt’s hip. “Sorry,” he gasps.

“Don’t be,” Matt says, as he rocks against it, a hand abandoning Techie’s hair to coax Techie’s hips up to meet him. “It’s good, yeah?” He nods, vehement in his agreement.

“It’s good, it’s good,” he gasps. “So good.” Matt’s own hardness ruts in the soft groove where his leg meets his body, presses against tendons and his femoral artery in a way he never would’ve guessed could feel so delicious. “Do you,” he gulps a breath, tries to steady himself. “Do you wanna f-fuck me?” 

“Ride me?” Matt is breathless. “I want to see you.” He nods, already shaky with want, and Matt rolls off him, tosses a bottle of clear slick on the bed before he starts undressing.

One day he’ll find the word he wants to describe Matt, because beautiful is too simple, glorious closer but still not enough. Breathtaking is perhaps the best; Techie has to gasp when Matt is naked before him, always has; since the first time, even before they were together, before he kissed Matt, before they were even rightly friends, before Matt was his and he Matt’s, the sight of Matt’s broad, bronzed, toned shoulders and arms had knocked the wind from him like a sucker punch to the gut. But breathtaking makes Matt sound like a sculpture in a museum; cold, unfeeling marble, not meant to be touched, and Matt is warm and alive. His muscles may feel hard as stone beneath Techie’s hand sometimes, coiled and clenched, imbued with so much strength, but there is softness to Matt too. The pale underside of his chin, where Techie likes to flutter kisses, the unprotected skin of his wrist, where his heartbeat strums strong and steady. And above all, Matt is certainly meant to be touched.

Matt climbs atop him, and since Techie has been too busy soaking in Matt’s nakedness to begin working on his own Matt helps, skims his shirt up and off, unhooks the button on his pants with a practiced flick of his wrist. “You’re so beautiful,” Matt says, as he helps shimmy Techie’s pants off. His cock bounces up to lay against the slight swell of his stomach once it’s cleared the restrictive waistband of his boxers. 

Matt puts his mouth on him, rests the crown of his penis against his tongue and sucks. “Stop,” he howls, hands fisted in Matt’s blonde curls, tugging him off. “I’ll come! Please,” he begs and Matt slides off.

“If you’re that worked up we don’t have to-”

“No. No, I want you. Please Mattie, please.” He pulls Matt close, kisses him. “Please. I want you inside me.” Matt groans, wraps a hand tightly against the base of his own dick. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck. This may not last long.” He presses his forehead against the wing of Techie’s collarbone.

“I don’t care. I want you.” He pushes up and Matt rolls with him willingly, steady hands keeping them close. “You want me to ride you, yeah?” He pulls himself up, works his knees under him until he’s straddling Matt’s thick waist, his thighs stretched pleasantly with the strain. 

“Techie,” Matt’s hips buck up, his cock nudging against the round curve of his ass. Matt has a massive cock, thick and long with a curve which bumps so sweetly against that place inside him. Even if Matt weren’t his first and only he still thinks it would be the best one he’s ever had, the way Matt nudges so gently inside him, the full stretch he never quite gets accustomed to, no matter how many times they do this, no matter how many of his sturdy fingers Matt works inside him first, no matter how slowly Matt eases into him. He worried, that first time, that he wouldn’t be able to do this, that his body would resist and rebel and he wouldn’t be able to do this one thing for Matt, who had done so much for him; wouldn’t be able to do it for himself, when he had already been denied so much. But his body had yielded, had given in with no pain, and now holding Matt deep inside him is one of his greatest joys. 

“Matt, please,” he begs. Matt slicks his fingers, rubs one against his hole until Techie whimpers then presses inside. Techie moans at the first finger, his whole body quivers with the second, and as Matt coaxes a third one inside he steadies himself with his hands splayed on Matt’s chest as his jaw hangs open. “I’m so close.” He rocks wantonly on Matt’s fingers, hips stuttering in a failing rhythm. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, oh god Mattie, yes.” Matt furiously rubs some lube on his cock, wetting it for Techie, has to force himself to let it go instead of working it to completion. He had forgotten, so enraptured in making Techie feel good, how hard he was, but is suddenly viciously aware of how much he has to cling to resist falling over the edge as soon as he touches himself. He gives the base of his cock another tight squeeze, trying to fight back the rising pleasure as he steadies himself for Techie.

Techie is burning hot inside and Matt groans as he clenches around him. His hands dwarf Techie’s trim waist, the tips of his fingers meeting in the back, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles over the slight swell of his belly, the dirty grind of Techie’s hips causing the soft flesh to jiggle ever so slightly. 

“Mattie, Mattie,” Techie chants, eyes closed, lost in the rise and fall of his hips, the sweet drag of Matt’s cock inside him. 

“Baby,” Matt gasps, pulling Techie down tight as his hips jerk up sharply. Techie’s breath stutters at the action, a fat drop of precome wavering at the tip of his cock before it’s knocked free and splashes hotly onto Matt’s belly. 

“Oh Matt. Feels so good. So good.” Another short jab of his hips brings forth another weeping drop of precome, clinging to the slit before it rolls off, catching on the ridge of Techie’s dick. Techie drags his fingernails down Matt’s chest, scoring parallel lines into his skin. “Mattie, Mattie. It’s so good. I love you.”

Matt surges up, wraps his arms around Techie’s back and pulls him close, holds him tight, his face pressed into Techie’s neck. “Baby,” he coos, and Techie whimpers at the name, face twisted in too-much, too-good sensation. “Baby,” he whispers, “You’re gonna make me come.” 

“Mattie, please,” Techie sobs, and how could he be so cruel as to deny his beautiful Techie this? So he rolls his hips as much as the position allows, nudging his cock along that little sweet spot up inside that makes Techie whimper and sob with pleasure, as he fists Techie’s own hardness. He drags his palm over it twice then Techie tenses, surrenders to his rising orgasm and can do nothing but moan as Matt gentles him through it, his come soaking the space between their bellies. 

Matt keeps Techie held tight, lets go of his now soft penis as shivers of overstimulation zip through him, rubs a soothing hand on his sweat-soaked back. “I’ve thought about asking you to marry me,” he whispers so softly the words barely carry across the scant inches between them. Techie tries to sit back, to move from where he slumped over Matt’s shoulder, but he’s too sated, too boneless to fight the strong brace of Matt’s arms. “I have,” he insists. “But it’s too soon. I think, when things are better. When you’re done with school. Maybe if I find a better job. Maybe then. But don’t think it’s because I don’t want to.” 

“You know,” Techie swallows, voice suddenly hoarse (he tries to tell himself it’s from crying out, from the noises he should be embarrassed Matt coaxes out of him, but he knows it’s a lie), “You know, when you do ask, I’ll say yes.”

He lets Matt gentle him down from the high, lets Matt hold him and kiss him and whisper sappy, soft things to him, but Matt is still hard inside him, and he can feel the strain and quiver in Matt’s hips as he tries to keep his hips still, tries not to chase his own completion. He clenches taxed muscles around the thickness of Matt inside him, shimmies his hips, grins as Matt gasps.

“Techie, you don’t have to.”

“You always make me feel so good. I want you to feel good, too,” he says, the simple truth. “What do you need?”

“Can I-”

“Anything,” he promises. Matt flips them, through some miracle or perhaps just sheer stubbornness he stays buried inside the warm cling of Techie’s welcoming body. He thrusts inside, a long, fluid roll of hips which sends a jolt of sensation through Techie’s spent cock. He moans, partly because it feels good, but mostly to encourage Matt to take what he needs, and Matt does. Propped up on his elbows, blonde curls bouncing around his face with each thrust deep inside the soft wet heat of Techie’s body. 

“I’m so close.”

“Come for me, Mattie. I want you to come inside me.” He flushes as he says the words, sure they sound stilted and anxious in his mouth, but Matt pushes inside, deeper, impossibly ever-so-slightly deeper, and comes with a low groan.

Matt stays inside him as he softens, slips out easily, a sticky trickle of come sliding out after him. He presses a finger tenderly to Techie’s stretched, still fluttering hole, slips it inside with the barest of pressure. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. Never.” Matt pulls the finger back out, taps it twice against the sensitive rim in a way which chases tingles up his spine. 

He knows they’ll have to clean up before they go to bed, hopes he can convince Matt to get in the shower with him, because the only thing which can make Matt’s body more glorious is if it’s wet (besides, he harbors a secret affection for the way Matt’s ears stick out when his hair is slicked down with water), but for now Matt lays atop him, warding off the chill in the air, as he works the tangles out of unruly curls with his fingers.

“Thanksgiving is in a couple weeks.” He blinks, his hands pausing for a second before they resume their brushing.

“It is.”

“Do you want to come with me to my parents? I think it’s time we tell them. Time I tell them.”

Joy swells beneath his breastbone, and he breathes deep. Sex and sweat and happiness and Matt, Matt, Matt filling his senses.

“Yeah. Yes, Matt, Mattie. Yes. I want to. I want to go wherever you do.” He grins, and Matt tilts his head up, and grins right back. 

Matt reaches up, kisses him. They do eventually climb into the shower together, but not for some time.

 

He jumps at the loud smack of a bag hitting the ground near him. 

“Sorry,” a voice says, sliding into the seat next to him. He looks up, blinks when he sees it’s the girl, the one who was flirting with Matt last week. 

“It’s okay,” he says, shrugs. “You just startled me.”

“So,” she begins, leaning across the space between them. “Your boyfriend is like, really hot.” She gives a little giggle, bites her lower lip. 

“Uh, thanks.”

“No, seriously. I mean, damn. You’re both really lucky.”

He nods. “Yeah.” He thinks about saying it, then wonders what’s stopping him. Thinks about how he wants to be worthy of Matt; of his affection, his admiration, his love. Decides fuck it. “Yeah,” he repeats. “Yeah. I got lucky. I really love him.”

He smiles as he says it, is still smiling when he walks up to Matt, under the same sprawling maple tree as last week, and kisses him.

~End!

**Author's Note:**

> That's all folks!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. This is the first time in years I've posted something non-anonymously, so I'm pretty nervous. There's a ton of incredibly talented authors in this small fandom, so I hope I pass muster. Thanks again!
> 
> Come find me on my shiny new Tumblr! I'm nice, I promise!
> 
> http://cut-off-the-grain.tumblr.com


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